Twisting Virtue
by ms hearse
Summary: Hermione falls in love, but there is a deeper reason for why she connects with him, and it will cost her everything.
1. Transition

Thank you Antigone and 30 Seconds to Mars for inspiration, and darklyromantic for beta reading such a horrific story!

_Twisting Virtue_

_ Transition_

She couldn't cry. Her life was different now; there was no more space for tears, even if it still hurt. She sat alone, legs curled up to her chest, and watched the rain fall outside, the way it had no inhibitions, free to drop from the sky without shame.

She didn't regret the decision, only the result. Her parents would be safer under the Memory Charm, but she would be nothing but a stranger to them, their memories of her wiped clean. It had been too late to change her mind, she knew, but at that moment she only felt strong enough to stare out the window, letting the rain do the crying.

Dumbledore had been kind enough to let her stay at Hogwarts as long as she needed. She looked around the room, at the ghostly shadows the candle made against the stone walls. It was eerie, but it was now home.

She hated not having anyone to talk to, for there were no other students and the only teachers around were hermits: Dumbledore was rarely seen outside his office and Professor Snape liked to hide out in the dungeons. She suspected, therefore, that the summer would be highly uneventful and hoped to find a collection of good books from the library to pass the time.

Looking back at the array of nail varnish on her bed, she picked out a subtle pink to use on her toes. It was a useless routine to paint her nails, for no one ever saw them with the school's shoe policy, but it made her feel like she was doing _something_ to look presentable. She pressed the brush against the tube's opening, allowing the excess paint to drip back down into the pool of pink. She wondered what her parents were doing without her. The thought burned a hole in her side and she clinched it before returning her attention to her feet, resolved to keep such thoughts far from her mind.

The day had barely just begun, but she had risen nonetheless, unable to sleep further. She kept a candle lit though the sun had already mounted the sky, for the air of the castle had been dampened with darkness due to the storm.

She stretched out onto her back, letting the varnish dry. No doubt Dumbledore would be spending breakfast in his office again and Professor Snape would have his nose deep in some book, leaving her to have a one-way conversation with her porridge.

Unable to take the silence any longer, she put on her trainers and headed down to the dungeons. She searched the rooms until she found Snape, perhaps not fully awake, but already set to his work, just like she suspected. He had on his usual black garments, minus the billowing robe, but his sleeves were unbuttoned and pulled up, his back bent over a steaming cauldron. He didn't notice her slip into the room and take a seat, watching carefully as he stirred and smelled the concoction with a permanent grin across his face.

She sat with her back upright, reviewing the materials laid out beside him to see if she recognised the potion. Perhaps a little too enthusiastic, she leaned forward so much that her chair skimmed out from behind her and she hit the floor on all fours. Her eyes were wide in fright as she kept very still, the sound of her fall indisputably knocking Snape out of his realm. She could hear his breathing hasten.

"Get up," he said.

She stood, slowly, and looked up to find Snape inches from her, eyes wild with hate.

"What do you think you're doing here, Miss Granger?"

"I was just watching you brew your potion, sir, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt you," she said. "Blood-Replenishing Potion?"

He startled, not expecting her diagnoses.

"I shouldn't expect anything less from a know-it-all."

She smiled sheepishly.

"Maybe I could help?" she asked, though futilely, knowing he would never concede.

"What do you feel about cleanup?" he asked as he observed the potion to see if it had been ruined by the sudden neglect. "I'm going to have to start over again, so you can cut up materials too."

"Yes, sir," she said anxiously. She was excited about finally having something to do with her time. She brushed her hair behind her ears and began the messy work of cleaning up the botched remains. Snape wasted no time in grabbing another cauldron and pulling the right amount of each supply out of their respective jars, laying them all out for her to chop.

They worked side by side in complete silence until a fresh batch of Blood-Replenishing Potion lay brewed and bottled before them. She smiled at Snape, who frowned back; both their brows damp with sweat.

"I expect you here tomorrow, Miss Granger, of course?" Snape said as he left the room with the bottles, not looking back for an answer. She felt a lump build in her throat. She had impressed him and he wanted her to help again; she knew he planned to spend the rest of summer brewing, and she was excited by the prospect of being his assistant.


	2. Breaking Formalities

_Breaking Formalities_

She looked at the materials on the table: scurvy-grass, lovage, sneezewort.

"A Befuddlement Draught," she said.

"Very good," he responded, "now start mixing."

She had been ready this time, her hair was pinned back and she wore short sleeves to keep from ruining her clothing. She reached for the knife, unaware of Snape's own hand already grasping the blade's handle, and grabbed his hand instead. She pulled away in embarrassment.

"You don't need to hold my hand, I'm sure you're capable of doing this one alone," he sneered.

She blushed.

"Sorry."

Shaking the moment from her head, she reoriented herself and tried to recall how to begin. Snape watched her as she delved right in, adding ingredients at just the right time and stirring at just the right angle and depth; his attentiveness only making her work harder.

"Are these potions for the Order?" she asked.

"You shouldn't speak so freely of the association," he said, "when you aren't certain who is listening."

She felt a laugh spring up inside her, but she held back. Somehow the threat did not come across as strongly as he had probably hoped.

"Seems a bit paranoid," she said, hoping she didn't sound too confrontational.

"Be grateful I can't take house points from you right now."

"Sorry, sir, just trying to lighten up the mood."

She kept her mouth shut the rest of the day, even when they had finished and he bid her a good night.

It had been that way for weeks, both working together in almost complete silence, until one morning when it seemed that the last strands that kept them apart had broken at last.

She watched Snape stir a cauldron of simmering potential when the thought occurred to her that she felt entirely safe in his presence. When he was around, she didn't fear the future, or think about her parents; his being a Death Eater hadn't even scared her. She stared at him in amazement.

"Are you going to pass me the thermometer, or keep staring at me?" he said, jolting her from her dream.

"Sorry."

"Perhaps we've been at this too long. Why don't I finish up here and I'll meet you in the Great Hall for lunch?"

She frowned: it was not common place for Snape to be considerate, and she wondered if she had heard him right.

"Back in dreamland again?" he asked.

"No, um, okay," she blurted.

She stood, shaken from the thought of a pleasant Snape, or maybe more from the prospect of her newfound liking to him. She saw then, as she moved to leave, that he was actually quite an attractive man. His features were stern; his jaw line thick in structure, cheekbones high and firm, and eyes deep with experience. His hair was swept to one side as he leaned over the cauldron, exposing more of his neck, which made him look younger and sweeter.

She saw him tilt his head her way as she left; a slight smile on his lips.

It didn't take long to walk to the Great Hall, for it was not so much a walk as a flight, her body gliding over the cobblestones as though she wore wings. She had never felt so airy and boundless in all her life before, and it both scared and liberated her.

The Great Hall was uncanny in its emptiness, and Dumbledore, who hunched over a plate at the Gryffindor table, seemed dwarfed by its enormousness. He wore a garment of light blue with white star shaped speckles, his hair and his beard bound with matching rope. He looked tired, as though his normal sparkle had been spent; his eyes deepened by heavy dark circles. He tried to conceal his weariness from her as she found a seat beside him.

"Ah, Miss Granger! What a delight! I thought I'd be dining alone this afternoon."

He waved his arm over the table where she sat, producing a plate. She reached for the sandwiches placed out on the table, putting two on her plate: one for her and one for Snape.

"Hello, Headmaster."

"And what have you been busying yourself with lately?" he asked, a slight glimmer in his eye.

"Actually, sir, I've been helping Professor Snape," she said.

"And she's been very useful," said Snape as he walked up behind her, taking a seat at the Ravenclaw table beside them.

She blushed at his kindness, and Dumbledore winked at her in response.

"I'll need to go to Hogsmeade to replenish my supplies tomorrow," Snape said.

"Yes, yes," said Dumbledore, "and why don't you take Miss Granger with you? I'm sure she's tired of being stuck in here all summer."

"I'd like that," she said.

Dumbledore smiled as he stood.

"I'm sorry I can't stay, I have so much to do. Enjoy a sandwich, Severus, you look pale."

She held back a laugh as Dumbledore left and Snape gave a sour expression.

"Sandwich?" she offered.

He grunted.

She could tell he was not amused, but she let herself laugh anyway, the airiness that she felt before came back stronger now as she was with him. He took a sandwich, reluctantly, and nibbled at it as he watched her giggle.


	3. Discipline

_Discipline_

It was chilly outside; she rubbed her hands together and put them back into the pockets of her jumper. Snape was late and it irked her terribly. The sky was cloudy again, threatening to wreck their day in Hogsmeade. She rested her back against one of the pillars of the doorframe, hoping it wouldn't be too long a wait.

She heard footsteps and turned to see Snape marching down the aisle-way. Something leaped inside her.

"Let's go," he said, not stopping to greet her.

They walked in silence, his long strides hard for her to keep up with. She tripped once along the way, but recovered quickly, jogging so as not to lose the pace. When they reached the town, he went straight into the first shop, allowing her to catch her breath in the doorway.

He gave her a funny side glance, and she felt herself lose it.

"What is your problem?" she yelped at him.

He frowned, concerned that a student would talk back under any circumstance. She tapped her foot and kept her hands to her waist, waiting for a proper response. She knew she had gone too far, but it was beyond that now; it was personal.

"Miss Granger, we will discuss this outside," he said sternly, though not angrily.

She huffed and stormed out the door of the shop to a bench just across the street. She sat, folding her arms, waiting for the reprimanding to begin. He crossed the street a moment later, and sat beside her, crossing his own arms.

"Never do that again," he said.

"Sorry," she said, feeling her guard break. "It's just that…"

"No excuses," he interrupted. "What you say to me in private and what you say in public are two different things. Don't confuse them."

"Sir?"

"Hum."

"Are we alone enough?"

"For what?"

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

He sighed.

"I feared that," he said.

"Why?"

"Because it's harder to say no when its reciprocated."

"You mean?"

"Yes."

She almost burst with excitement. He loved her. She had proven to him that she was an equal and he had invested his feelings in her.

"Snape?"

"Hum?"

"I realise I'm still your student, and it is wrong of me to ask, but…what if I want more? What if…I've been waiting for this moment, and now…?"

He turned to face her.

"I'm still here."

Chills ran up her spine then. She knew exactly what he meant.

They finished their tasks in Hogsmeade and took the trail back up to school, his hand occasionally brushing past hers in an obscure fashion. They busied themselves with shelving the new items, a sense of urgency in the air, as if they could not finish in time.

As the last item was in place, she turned to Snape, who was staring at her so intently that she felt he didn't see her at all. Her breathing shallowed.

He smiled, pulling her in for a kiss. It was intense, skilled, beautiful. She had never been kissed before, but the feeling was old, like she had felt it many times before.


	4. Commitment

_Commitment_

The first day of school was odd. There were students everywhere, noise and chatter filling the hallways, so much louder than she had been used to in the quiet of the summer. It didn't take long to find Harry and Ron, who had been yelling out her name and jumping all around trying to find her. They were full of questions of how she spent her time, but, reluctant to share _every_ detail, she told them she had spent a majority of her time in the library, to which they rolled their eyes and continued to tell her how boring their own summers were.

Classes were slow, even for her, and she found herself daydreaming quite frequently of Snape. Potions was the last class of the day, and it seemed like it was never going to come. There was an hour break between classes, and she found a spot on the grass outside to read. Ron couldn't stop talking about something Quidditch related, but she tuned him out.

"What have we here?" asked a familiar voice.

She looked up to see a gang of Slytherins poking at her book.

"Bug off, Draco," Harry hissed, but Draco just stuck his tongue out.

"Very mature," she said.

"_Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions_?" Draco said, "Sounds interesting. Maybe my girlfriend will like it."

Before she could pull the book out of his reach, Draco snatched it and ran from her in the direction of the field. Harry stood up, but she told him it was her battle, and she ran at top speed to catch up with Malfoy and his gang. They laughed at her, slowing their pace to taunt her. She found that she couldn't run as fast or as long as she used to, and she didn't make it far before she had to stop. She grabbed her ribs and threw up in the grass; she could hear Draco laughing.

She was confused. Her stomach churned madly and the courtyard began to spin. A thought occurred to her just as she hit the ground that made her shiver.

Harry and Ron were by her side in minutes and tried to drag her to the hospital wing, but she didn't want to go. She had them walk her to her room instead.

She skipped class, searching her trunk for the one thing she never thought she'd need. Setting it out on the counter, she waited the three minutes it took to turn pink.

--

Harry and Ron were waiting for her in the common room, worried.

"I'm okay, really, guys."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "Maybe you should lie down."

"No, I'm fine," she reassured him. "I just need to tell Snape why I missed class. I don't want to have points taken off for no reason."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione," Ron sighed. "You can tell him tomorrow."

"Really, I'm fine. You can walk me there if you're worried."

They looked at each other skeptically, but agreed; and so they walked down to the dungeon, Harry on her right side and Ron to her left, both ready to grab her arms if she fell. When they reached Snape's office, she told them to go back to the common room, but they refused, telling her they'd wait outside the door till she was done. She nodded. It wasn't worth the fight.

She entered without knocking and found Snape sitting at his desk marking parchments.

"And where did you disappear to tonight, Miss Granger?"

"I'm pregnant."

"Excuse me?" he asked, shocked.

"I'm pregnant."

He swallowed loudly, multiple times as if his saliva would not sink down his throat.

"Mine?"

"Of course," she said.

"Hermione," he spoke softly as he rose from his seat and pulled her close. "You won't have to deal with this alone."

She rubbed her face in his robes.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, trying not to let the fear overwhelm her.

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Quietly. We don't have to announce anything until you pass your NEWTs."

She nodded, digging further into his embrace.


	5. The Killing Curse

_The Killing Curse_

Marriage was hard. She felt like she had a right to spend more time with Snape, or at least to share a room, but she was rarely able to see him. They had to keep their relationship a secret, so Snape thought it wise to keep their visiting hours short and few. She knew it was smart to stay away from him, but mostly it just unnerved her. He had promised she wouldn't have to deal with the pregnancy alone, but she felt like a single parent every time her stomach churned and the world spun and she spent all her mornings in the bathroom throwing up without a husband's hand to hold her hair and rub her back.

She worried, too: mostly about finishing her exams, and about becoming a mother, but also about how her friends would take the news. She wasn't sure if Ron was mature enough, or if Harry would be forgiving. She loved Snape, but didn't know if love was enough to get her through the rough patches; she needed the kindness of a sympathetic touch and the unhesitant smile of a friend.

She walked the long corridor to the dungeon. Snape had his own way of telling her to visit: he liked to eye her with fierceness from the teachers' table at dinner and she was supposed to know what it meant. She sighed to herself. Perhaps hidden messages between them would be easier to read if she actually spent time with him enough to learn them.

She stopped just outside his chamber door. Someday it would be different. Someday there would be no more hiding; they would look their opposers in the face and tell them to move along. She dreamt of such a day so vividly that she could smell it, taste it, reach out her tiny hands and touch it.

She touched the door instead; felt its boldness, its plainness, and its hidden majesty. Upon opening it, she saw Snape dressing in his Death Eater garb.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Hermione, yes," he said, "there's going to be a raid tonight. We're attacking Hogwarts."

"Does Dumbledore know?" she asked, frightened.

"Of course."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," he said, "I knew you'd want to help, which is why I'll be locking you up in my chambers for the night to keep you safe."

She felt her insides boil. He had no right to keep her locked up, not when she could help.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed.

"Hermione, I won't have you in harm's way. It'll only be a quick demonstration; you won't have to worry about anybody getting hurt," he reassured.

"I can take care of myself."

"No, you can't."

He proceeded to surround the room with wards that she was not meant to break. Then, shaving a handful of Floo powder from a satchel above the fireplace, he left without further justification.

"That dim-wit!" she yelled.

She looked around the room, trying to remember the exact wand movements Snape made before he left. If she could figure out which wards he used, perhaps she could break through them and warn her friends of the raid.

It took hours. She managed to break a few of the easier ones, but there were so many that it seemed impossible that she would get through them in time. She could see it all happening as though she were a part of it. Death Eaters were known to be extravagant in their dealings, and would most likely want to make a show of their power.

They would be dressed in complete garb: robes to cover their identity and masks to cover their shame. They would probably send some sort of sign to warn as many people as they could that they were close, hyping up an experience that might have otherwise gone unnoticed; and there would be a lot of useless spell throwing, mainly to damage as much property as possible, so it ultimately looked worse than it was.

She felt more wards break, but it wasn't from her doing. A strange tingling sensation rushed through her body as she realised she wasn't the only one working on breaking the spells.

She stood back, wand raised, prepared to defend herself if it came to it. It could have been anyone, but Snape had not returned to unlock her, giving her the impression that she was not about to greet a pleasant face.

She was right.

The door flung open, revealing a very aggravated Bellatrix Lestrange. It seemed Bellatrix did not expect to find someone there, for her features wrinkled up in a curious manner before throwing a spell at her. She ducked just in time, hitting Bellatrix with a _Stupefy_. There were spells thrown every which way, wands thrashing and whipping the air in anger.

She heard the words and saw the green flash swirl her way, but something inside her didn't allow it to register in her mind. Before she realised that she was faced with the killing curse, she used _Protego_ to redirect it, affectively, straight back at Bellatrix.

The woman lay on the floor, dead. She inched forward, half expecting it to be some form of a joke, knowing full well it was true: she had murdered her. She had murdered.


	6. Bad Blood

_Bad Blood_

She chose not to disclose to anyone how Bellatrix had died. No one knew she had been in Snape's chambers that night, and she assumed they wouldn't believe any concoction of lies she would have to brew in order to make it sound innocent.

Snape had not returned from his raidings for weeks, so Dumbledore took on the hefty task of teaching his class. Everyone who had any incline to Snape's involvement with the Dark Lord were all up in a fuss about his absence. It made her queasy that so many thought so illy of her husband, that they didn't see what he did for them _because_ of his dealings with Voldemort. She found herself in a permanent rut because of what was being said of him. It made her miss him that much more, and she wondered when he would return and how he would be received.

She, on the other hand, was preoccupied with her own troubles. As soon as things seemed to settle down again, she began to show.

"'Mione, I can't believe you'd do this to me," Ron said as he stared at the bump she bore beneath her shirt.

"It wasn't a personal assault against you, Ron."

"Who's the father?" Harry chipped in.

"None of your business," she bit back.

"We're only trying to understand."

"You don't even understand yourself," she said defensively.

"I thought you were mine," Ron said, sounding wounded and small.

"Give me a break, Ron; you never looked at me twice."

"That's not true!"

She shook her head.

"Please, just trust me. I never meant to hurt either of you. I…I have to go. Dumbledore wants to see me."

"Wonder why," Ron huffed.

Harry hit Ron in the shoulder as she turned to leave.

"I'm sorry," she kept insisting. "I'm sorry."

She walked from them so fast that she felt like she ran, and although she had no desire to face Dumbledore with her stomach the size it was, it seemed better than facing her friends.

The path to the headmaster's office was short, his office close to his fellow Gryffindors. He stood before her with a faint smile, his eyes peering over his half moon spectacles with great concern.

"Miss Granger," he said.

"Headmaster."

"Although I cannot be sure who fathered your child, I have certain…presumptions. Would you like to tell me who was responsible, or should I continue?"

She took in a heavy breath. He nodded.

"Have a seat," he said.

She looked around her to find a chair; her hands instinctively resting on her belly.

"I realise that putting your parents under the Memory Charm was difficult for you. I had hoped that you would find comfort in these rusty walls," he said as he pretended to pat the walls of his office.

"According to how far along you look, Miss Granger, I can only assume this happened during the summer break. And I assure you, Professor Snape will be fired for becoming intimately involved with a student."

She looked up from her somber daze.

"Unless I am incorrect in my assumptions?"

She looked back down at the floor, ashamed to speak.

"I had hoped that I was wrong."

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"What if I told you we're married?"

He smiled, though weakly.

"Were you married after, or before?"

She said nothing. The truth was crushing her with a weight she had never known, pushing hard against her lungs. She considered lying, if only to save Snape from the humiliation, but it wouldn't change the outcome.

"After."

"The real reason I asked you to come, Mrs Snape," he said; the words sounded odd to her ears, almost to the degree that she hated hearing them, "is that I have a confession of my own. Since you are about to become a mother, I thought it would be relevant to share with you what I know of your own mother.

"Some years back, I received the company of a Bellatrix Lestrange. You are familiar with her, of course?"

She nodded.

"Bellatrix had with her an infant, which she gave to me, asking that I give the child a proper home. I promised her that I would do so, and after searching for several months, I found a nice Muggle family who was unable to conceive and who was willing to take the child in. I was not told who the father was, and I am still uncertain to this day.

"When you turned eleven and joined us here at Hogwarts, I knew I had chosen the correct family to raise you."

She couldn't take in another pinch of air as it all sank in. She had been adopted. Her biological mother was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, devoted member of the Dark Lord's clan: the very woman she had killed a few weeks prior. She was a pureblood witch of the ugliest kind.


	7. Becoming a Death Eater

_Becoming a Death Eater_

She hated what she was. Everything that she knew about her life had been turned upside-down, messing with her mind and her heart, stealing her identity out from beneath her. She was related to the Malfoys, she was _no better_ than those filthy, evil Malfoys.

The more she thought about who she really was, however, the more she wanted to know about her mother. It was as though with each bout of anger towards the Malfoys, there was a stronger dose of pity to soothe her. She wondered what sort of woman went to her enemy for help; what must have made her give her child over to Muggles instead of the pureblood families which she so worshipped.

She had to find out more about Bellatrix, but there was only one way she could really get into her mother's head. She started right away on the Polyjuice Potion, using Snape's office as her laboratory.

She was only caught once. Harry had followed her one evening and found her testing the consistency.

"What do you need the Polyjuice Potion for, Hermione?"

"Harry," she said, making something up on the spot, "do you remember the first day of classes when Draco stole my book?"

"Yes."

"I want my book back."

She could tell he saw right through her, but Harry was no stranger to adventure. He had smiled widely and told her he would personally snatch the hair from whomever she preferred.

When Harry added the hair of Pansy Parkinson to the potion a week later, he grinned as she changed before his eyes into a shorter, pudgier girl of minimal intellect.

"Remember, you only have an hour," he said, pushing her out the door.

She had been spying on Draco for the month it took to make the potion, and had learned that he planned to take his girlfriend home with him one weekend. She was excited about how perfect everything was working in her favor, and hoped that it wasn't an omen for bad things to come.

--

They Apparated, so she didn't have to worry about time lost in travel. She kept looking at Draco, her newfound cousin, with a strange new light, which he must have interpreted as flirting because he soaked it up. Narcissa, however, wasn't sure what to make of the looks she gave him.

Draco must not have sensed his mother's unease, for he upped his flirtations with Pansy by bragging nonstop about someday becoming a real Death Eater. She tried to pretend like it was a wonderful goal, but couldn't help giving the occasional sour face. Narcissa noticed.

"Pansy, dear," Narcissa said, "have you ever considered being a Death Eater?"

She inhaled a breath of victory, for it was just the type of question she was waiting for.

"Oh yes," she said, "I've always looked up to Bellatrix."

"Really?"

"Can you tell me more about her?"

"Well," Narcissa said, this time with more enthusiasm, "Bella was very strong. Much stronger than me. She was always so devoted to the Dark Lord, even from the beginning, and He rewarded her handsomely for it.

There was only ever one time she didn't focus on the Dark Lord to her fullest. It was her only downfall."

"What happened?" she asked, intrigued.

"She fell in love."

Surprised, she inquired further.

"Oh, well, Bella was Snape's girl for years. He didn't let anyone near her. It was a power play, though, because they ended the relationship once Bella told him that her feelings had grown."

She couldn't breathe. Of all the men she expected to have been with her mother, Snape was not one of them.

"When…when did they split exactly?"

"I think it was around the same time I was pregnant with Draco, actually. Why?"

"Excuse me, I have to leave," she said, "I, um, just remembered that I have an essay to finish."

She stood and Apparated from the Malfoy house, leaving a confused Narcissa and a heartbroken Draco. She didn't know how much more she could take.

She quickly changed back into her Gryffindor attire and rushed to the dungeon where she heard Snape had been spotted. It was said that the evil professor had finally pushed his association with the Dark Lord too far, the last raid costing his job, but she knew better. She knew it had nothing to do with Voldemort, but with her and the tiny parcel of their love in her belly.

Snape was in his personal chambers, preparing to leave Hogwarts indefinitely.

"It was inevitable," he said as she closed the door behind her. "I'm not allowed on the school grounds anymore, but Dumbledore found a temporary place in Hogsmeade for me so I can be closer to you and the baby. You're allowed to visit me whenever you'd like."

"Were you ever with Bellatrix?"

"Hum?" he asked, not expecting the question. "Where did you come up with that?"

"It's important."

"No, I don't believe it is."

She screamed then, not at him in particular, but at the injustice she had been handed. Too upset to handle anymore pain, she ran straight to the Gryffindor common room and up to bed. Digging her face into her pillow, she cried into it until she shook.


	8. Hogsmeade

_Hogsmeade_

It took awhile for her to feel the need to go to Hogsmeade. She knew it had to be done, but was reluctant.

Snape had been worried about her since their last encounter; his brows furled and eyes that jabbed her through the heart. When he tried to touch her, she flinched and backed away.

"I did have a relationship with Bella," he finally said, breaking the awkward silence between them. "It was years ago. She didn't mean anything to me, Hermione, I promise."

"She didn't mean anything to you?" she said. "What was she then, a pet?"

"Why does it matter so much to you?"

"Were you ever intimate?"

He didn't respond. He didn't blink, or cringe, or move in any manner.

"Did you stay true?"

"Yes."

She took in a gulp of air; it choked her, making the words harder to say.

"I was just told that Bellatrix was my mother. And, if you were with her…if you were true…"

"Then you're my daughter."

She nodded, unable to verbalise any more.

"And I married you," he said, his eyes turning into holes, blackened by truth.

His body stiffened and he stared into a piece of wall over her head.

"I…" he said, "I can't. I just can't."

He left then. She did not know if he planned to return, or if it was truly goodbye.

She felt a part of herself leap out after him, and she doubled over from the pain. It was a very unusual pain, like a whip had lashed out and cut itself across her stomach. It was a pain that meant only one thing. She held her stomach tight, as if to keep it in place, but ultimately she knew there was nothing she could do, for the stress of truth had brought the onset of early labour.

She groaned, grasping the floor, the walls, trying to find the one thing that would make the cramping cease. The burning in her sides and back became stronger and she screamed at the stinging agony that she called life.

It was short-lived, but forceful. She pulled the tiny creature up onto her chest. She was bleeding far more than she should have been, and she felt herself grow weak.

She busied herself with cleaning the blood from the baby's face with whatever strength she could muster. Feeling her end, she kissed the baby's head just as she slipped into blackness and death.

--

Author Note: Yes, it's sick, I get it. Stop telling me how grossed out you are. I said it was a parody to Antigone, folks, and that's Antigone for you. Basic Greek tragedy. Don't you remember OEdipus? He killed his father and married his mother, and when the truth was exposed, his mother/wife killed herself and he dug his eyes out. I'm sorry you're bothered. Go read something with sunshine and butterflies, and leave me to my darkness... And for the millionth time: yes, it's finished. No more, folks.


End file.
